Read "Se Lamentar Augelli, o Verdi Fronde" by Francesco Petrarca online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
SHE IS EVER PRESENT TO HIM.
If the lorn bird complain, or rustling sweep / Soft summer airs o'er foliage waving slow, / Or the hoarse brook come murmuring down the steep, / Where on the enamell'd bank I sit below / With thoughts of love that bid my numbers flow; / 'Tis then I see her, though in earth she sleep! / Her, form'd in heaven! I see, and hear, and know! / Responsive sighing, weeping as I weep: / "Alas," she pitying says, "ere yet the hour, / Why hurry life away with swifter flight? / Why from thy eyes this flood of sorrow pour? / No longer mourn my fate! through death my days / Become eternal! to eternal light / These eyes, which seem'd in darkness closed, I raise!"